Page 95 of Jewel of the Sea

“There was another?” Dracchus demanded.

How hadn’t Aymee realized it yet? Seven of them had been on the stage in the town hall. Only six had come to the submarine pen.

Randall let his head fall back and sighed. “Cyrus sent Jon Mason to Fort Culver after we were brought back into town. Did it while Aymee’s father was patching me up, so I couldn’t stop him. Wanted to make sure my father knew the kraken were real.”

Skin flashing crimson, Dracchus darted toward Randall, lashing out with an arm; Jax intervened, blocking him. Randall lifted his head, eyes gleaming — but not with fear.

“What does that mean for my people?” Dracchus growled.

“It means more hunters will come,” Randall said. It was shame in his voice, in his eyes. “I should have stopped this sooner. I should have done more. But I failed my rangers; I failed The Watch. I failed Aymee and your people.”

“All of us have made mistakes.” Jax locked eyes with Dracchus’s. “He is trying to make it right. Should we not allow him that opportunity?”

Dracchus bared his teeth, swung his gaze to Macy and Aymee, and backed away. “You will have our protection, human. That will not extend to any of your hunters, should they come for us.”

“I understand.” Randall squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry, Randall,” Aymee said.

“You’re protecting the people you care about. Never feel shame for that. It’s what I was supposed to have been doing all along.”

“You did what you thought was right. You had no reason to believe me.”

“Don’t need to make excuses for me.” He sat up, features strained and face paling with the exertion. Aymee hurried to help him. “I can dress myself,” he said, but his voice was weak.

“Don’t be difficult. The skin is still tender over the wound, and we don’t want to reopen it.”

Aymee and Jax helped Randall get into his suit; he insisted upon taking over once the sleeves were high enough for his arms, but when he moved his shoulder, he groaned in pain and finally gave in to their assistance.

Macy and Aymee supported Randall on his slow walk out.

Jax and Dracchus lifted Arkon and followed.

He stirred as they moved him. The color hadn’t yet returned to his skin, and for a moment he appeared disoriented. His pupils shrank to slits against the overhead lights. “We are leaving?” he asked softly.

“We are going home, Arkon,” Jax said.

“Aymee? She is safe?”

“I’m here,” Aymee said.

“She is just ahead of us,” Jax said. “Rest. You’ll be there soon, with Aymee by your side.”

They entered the submarine pen. The blood splattered, smeared, and pooled on the concrete was still wet, but the kraken had removed the bodies. Aymee should have feltsomethingabout that — lingering anger, satisfaction, relief, horror at the memory of the slaughter. All she had now was her love and concern for Arkon. She’d think about the rest after he healed.

Descending to the lower platform, Aymee helped Randall secure his mask, put on her own, and leapt off the edge. She and Macy helped Randall ease down the ladder while Jax and Dracchus lowered Arkon into the water.

Jax came and took hold of Randall. “I will swim with him.”

“We need to take it easy on them, or their wounds may reopen,” Aymee said.

“Stay close,” Jax said to Macy, brushing a hand over her shoulder.

“I will,” she replied with a smile.

To Aymee, the swim was an eternity. She had no idea how far they traveled; once the coastline was no longer visible behind them, she lost all sense of direction. Sam might have been able to tell her, but it wasn’t important, and she was too preoccupied with monitoring Arkon and Randall to ask.

Aymee had discovered she could speak to Macy and Randall through the masks soon after submerging, but they remained quiet as they swam, especially when the surrounding ocean became nothing but impenetrable blue in all directions.

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